


Hannor Week: Living Deviant Prologue Compilation

by Yeahhiyellow



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), M/M, POV Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-18 01:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16985148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeahhiyellow/pseuds/Yeahhiyellow
Summary: My entries for Hannor Week! It's kind of a prequel to my Living Deviant main story 'cause why not I guess? And the dates lined up perfectly, too, which was pretty neat.At first I was going to write this as a cute fluff piece, but knowing me, I ended up writing angst. Oh well, it's just another to add to the pile 😂





	1. I'm Back

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This piece does contain strong language and mentions of suicide. Read at your own risk.

**10:54 AM**

**December 10th, 2038**

 

"You're back."

Hank put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes before pulling me back into another hug.

"You're finally back."

My arms wrapped back around him as my heart skipped a beat.

_I'm back._

After spending a month at Carl's house with the other androids, I was back with Hank. I couldn't stand being away from him any longer. Since he was too scared to contact me after the revolution, I had thought he hadn't wanted me anymore, wanted to move on from the nuisance that was myself. But here he was, coming back for more.

While I squeezed him against myself, I sent a message through the android messaging system to Markus, Simon, and Josh.

 

**Thank you. Meeting up again with Hank was something I should've done so much earlier. Thank you so much for giving me the courage to do so. Please thank North and Carl for me, they've done so much, and I can't thank all of you guys enough.**

 

I wish North and Carl had the ability to connect to the instant android messaging system as well. Because of North's original purpose, her designers and programmers hadn't given her the ability to access and participate in it, and, well, Carl was a human, so there's no way he could ever.

_But I REALLY wish Hank could. Maybe then I wouldn't have waited so long._

"I'm so glad you're finally here. I would offer to buy you some food at the cart, but it's closed, and I don't know how the whole eating functionality works for you."

"Well, because I'm a newer model, I have the ability to eat. However, this function was merely made for smooth human integration, not for any fulfillment or enjoyment, and it's far from a necessity, unlike you humans."

His face looked slightly puzzled. "I thought you were a deviant. How come you're referring to biological humans as humans but not yourself?" I could sense a slight bit of disappointment from him, but I didn't know why.

"Well, I am a deviant, but I don't know if I would exactly refer to myself as human."

He looked at me and bit his lip, and it looked almost as if he was desperate to do something. "Let's go back home, why don't we?"

"I don't have a home."

Again, he looked like he wanted desperately to do something. "Back to my house, which you can stay at." He paused. "I mean, if you want to."

This time it was my turn to want to do something. But I knew exactly what it was, and it was extremely unsettling to my head as it paralyzed my body with fear.

 _I wanted to stay with him, to draw him close, to pull his head to my face and press my lips against his gently_.

But I COULDN'T. Period. End of story. There was no changing my mind. Right?

"So," the word was drawn out awkwardly. "Are we going to go back to my place or not?"

"Yes, we can, if that is what you would like to do." Something seemed a little bit mechanical about that sentence, something was there that a deviant just wouldn't say in this situation, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Again, Hank looked increasingly anxious, as if he wanted to do something that he wasn't supposed to.

"I guess we can go, then."

He walked back to his car, and I soon followed suit.

 

 

**11:12 AM**

**December 10th, 2038**

 

"So, I assume you recognize the place. This time I'm not passed out on the floor and you don't have to jump through the window and completely break it to save me, though." We both giggled slightly as we walked inside. "It's still broken, in case you were wondering."

As my eyes looked around the room, all of my memories in this place came flooding back. I remembered jumping through the window, waking Hank up, seeing the loaded gun beside him and the picture of his dead son on the table.

I turned around and put my hands on his shoulders. "You haven't done it since, have you?"

"What are you talking about?" After the realization of what I was saying hit him and a bit of hesitation ensued, he continued. "Oh, no. No, I haven't." My system told me that he was likely lying.

"Hank, you did it again, I can tell."

"No, I told you, I didn't."

"Hank. You're lying, and I already told you, I can tell."

He shrunk against the wall behind him, his hands covering his face.

"I didn't even think of until now, I'm so sorry, I should've realized, I should've contacted you sooner."

His entire body just lowered to the floor, in what I could determine as a defensive position.

"How many times have you-"

"34. There's your answer. I'm sorry I let you down." He reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out the solemn, black object, throwing it on the floor, curling up further in the process.

"Hank, no!" I didn't even think, I just grabbed him in my arms, hugging him against my chest. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry, it was all my fault, I should've contacted you sooner, I should've known."

"It's not your fault, Connor, it's all my own. I didn't reach out, I didn't do anything right. Except to try to kill myself. That was one thing that I did that I don't regret. I just should've kept going."

"Hank, stop it, please!" I reached out and closed the front door with my foot as I brought his head out from between his knees and under his fingers. "Stop it, you can't die. I couldn't live without you, I..." I drifted off, unable to form any more words. Why couldn't I speak, when that's all I needed to do? The one thing I have to do I fail at, it happens everytime.

_Just like a few minutes ago. Where all I had to do was not fall in love with him and continue our relationship as a friendship, never having those thoughts again. Ever. And I failed, and I was still failing miserably._

_I was a failure._

"I'm so sorry, Connor, I don't want to upset you, but I can't live with myself anymore, I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's being a failure. Stop saying you are. It's not right."

"No, you aren't the failure here!" He reached out and grabbed my shirt collar as his eyes met mine. I could see the tears rolling down his cheeks, the wetness in his eyes. "You aren't the failure, Connor, and you never will be."

_But he had no idea what I was thinking. What I wanted to do. He had no fucking idea that the mere presence of his face in front of mine was causing my heart to beat faster, my breathing to become irregular, my thoughts to go deeper into the dark pit of doom that I was falling quickly into._

_But I couldn't say a thing._

I took off his coat and picked him up gently, caressing his head in my arm.

_Don't think what you're thinking. Stop it, now._

But of course, I continued into a downward spiral.

I carried him over to the couch and sat him down on the soft material. After reaching for the TV remote I sat down on the couch beside him, making sure to not touch his shaking body.

"Would you like for me to turn on the TV? We can watch whatever you want."

As a response, he just nodded his head. I pressed the on button, noticing the old-style set-up, and nervously asked him what he wanted to watch. Anything besides news was his answer. Not exactly sure what that meant, I turned to a channel which was featuring a holiday-themed movie.

"Does this one look good?"

He nodded his head while crossing his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry I'm acting like this."

"It's okay, Hank. Don't apologize." I turned my head back to the movie instead of looking at him.

"Could you pass me a blanket? It's kind of cold in here."

Listening to his request, I grabbed a blanket from the other side of the coffee table and sat back down next to him. I winced slightly as we touched.

"I also have an internal heating system that I could amplify, if that would make you feel any better." No.

_No._

_What the fuck was I doing?_

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and leaned into him as I spread the blanket on top of the both of us.

"Yeah." A genuine smile came from his lips. "Yeah, that would be nice."

_He actually wanted to sit next to me? He actually wanted me to press against him, our skin coming into contact with eachother's?_

He shyly interlocked his fingers with my other hand, which was atop the newly settled blanket.

"I think I like this."

I smiled back at him, thoughts circulating around my head.

_There were so many things we could do right now. I could draw him into me, pushing our lips together while running my fingers through his hair..._

But we were just friends, right?

And I didn't want to lose control of myself. I couldn't.

_But he was so close, and that could all be changed in an instant._

But _NO._

I could feel his warm embrace on my faux-skin, but only innocently, only as friends. And as much as I tried, that nagging thought remained, right smack dab in the front of my head.

_I wanted to do so much more._


	2. *Don't* Kiss Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My 2nd entry for Hannor Week (which is again late... oops) yay!!!
> 
> "Why are you smiling like that? They're only Christmas decorations."
> 
> Something about that sentence made his smile completely fade. He hesitated, thinking before he spoke. "Well, I guess I'm just excited to, you know, decorate this place up." For a second I thought I saw his LED flash red, but when I looked back, it was blue again.
> 
> Why was he acting like this? What the fuck was up with him?
> 
> "Let's just get decorating, okay?" I had no idea why, but the joy in his eyes was completely gone. "I'll put this up somewhere else instead."
> 
> What? What the fuck was going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Does contain strong language, self-harm, and attempted suicide. Read at your own risk.

I watched as Connor dug his arms deep into my closet, searching for the old cardboard box full of Christmas decorations that I hadn't put up for years. He was probably finding old clothes from when I actually took care of myself that were too small to fit me now, plus the dozens of old beer bottles that I had previously abandoned, lurking in the dark corners. Wincing, I thought to myself that I shouldn't have let him search through my private spaces, even if he just wanted to help out. Or if he told himself he wanted to help me out because he didn't want tell me the truth about myself. The truth we both knew but neither of us wanted to admit to me.

I watched as Connor fell forward awkwardly, his face writhing in disgust at a beer bottle that was half-empty while his elbow hit against something, making a huge thumping noise. It still was kind of funny that he reacted these kind of ways when feeling new emotions, and I let myself laugh.

"Here it is!" He scooted himself backwards, grabbing the wrinkled box with both hands. We both giggled as he stood up, clutching the box against his chest so nothing would fall out. He blew on the top, and a layer of dust came flying off.

"When's the last time you even touched this?"

"It's been a couple years." I didn't want to bring up the fact that I hadn't even really ever thought of it since Cole's death.

_Keep it light, keep it simple. You can't reveal anymore of your stupid ass troubles to him, especially after what happened yesterday._

Somehow I could still vividly remember the grasp of his hand on my arm when I threw my gun across the floor, his hold on my body as he carried my limp self to the couch, and the skin of his hand against mine as we touched. I couldn't let that happen again.

"These are all the Christmas decorations you have?"

He looked slightly disappointed at the contents of the box, which were very limited. He had no idea, did he?

Part of me was glad that he didn't know about the other, larger box I kept hidden away. But part of me wanted to show him my history, the projects that I had done with Cole on his school assignments and all the little knick-knacks we had put together throughout time.

_But I couldn't reveal my stupid fucking self anymore._

"Yeah, that's it."

_Please don't realize I'm lying. Please don't realize I'm lying. Please don't realize I'm lying._

His eyebrows twitched and his LED turned yellow for a second, but he didn't question my response.

"Okay." He blinked twice. "Let's unpack these, then."

_Thank the fucking lord._

He spread out the contents on my unmade bed, immediately sorting them into categories. In one line there were lights, in one there were wreaths, in the next there were ornaments for a tree that had been given away ages ago, and in the one to the furthest right there were a few pieces of mistletoe. "So I'm thinking we put the lights up outside, the wreaths throughout the rooms, the ornaments on a plant that we can use as a Christmas tree, and the mistletoe can be put in the living room and in here." He freezed up for a second and his LED turned to red before quickly changing back over to blue. "Or we could just leave out the mistletoe, if you prefer."

I cocked my head to the side, not understanding a word he said. "Why wouldn't we put up the mistletoe?"

There was a slight sense of relief on his face, but I couldn't tell why. "I know it can be harmful to certain animals."

"Oh. Well, it should be fine if we put it high enough. Sumo can't reach it if it's on the ceiling, or someplace high up like that."

Connor smiled and passed me two strings of lights and a piece of mistletoe. He grabbed a piece himself and got up on the bed, reaching his arms up to the ceiling. "Can you grab me a piece of tape or something sticky, please?"

"Will do."

He grin was completely wild, and I was thoroughly confused.

"Why are you smiling like that? They're only Christmas decorations."

Something about that sentence made his smile completely fade. He hesitated, thinking before he spoke. "Well, I guess I'm just excited to, you know, decorate this place up." For a second I thought I saw his LED flash red, but when I looked back, it was blue again.

_Why was he acting like this? What the fuck was up with him?_

"Let's just get decorating, okay?" I had no idea why, but the joy in his eyes was completely gone. "I'll put this up somewhere else instead."

_What? What the fuck was going on?_

"You know what, I'll just put these aside for now. Let's put up the lights outside first."

"Okay, then. Whatever you want." I flinched at his sudden coldness before following him outside, the strings of lights still in my hands.

_What the fuck was wrong with him?_

No, there was something about what I said that had made him feel this way.

_What the fuck was wrong with me?_

____________________________________________

"So, I think we did a pretty good job. I like our handiwork." He smiled generously at me while I gazed at the freshly decorated room. There was a wreath above the door to the outside, which was covered as best we could with the limited amount of lights, another wreath on the bookshelf above the TV, some nutcrackers in the kitchen, some ornaments on an old, withered plant, and several other knick-knacks dotted around.

"We're pretty good as partners."

_Partners. He had just said we were partners._

But he had only previously used that word when we were working on the deviant cases. There was no mention of romance involved. So I needed to stop my train of thought before it went too wild again.

I dug the fingernails of my right hand into the exposed flesh of my lower left arm. I had hoped the pain of it would stop me from the harmful exaggeration I was heading into, but it only added another layer of hurt. Still, I dug it in deeper.

"What do you think of it, Hank?"

I let a sigh come out. "It makes me a little sad, it just looks so much like what my old house looked like years ago."

He frowned and tilted his head, concerned.

"But I also really like it. I think you did a great job."

"You really think so?"

I smiled gently but still in a reserved way as I looked into his eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"I think I like it too."

_Don't you dare even think of it, you fucking idiot._

I stopped tearing at my flesh and put my hand at my side, which he grabbed and held onto.

"I like how there's just a random piece of mistletoe taped to the ceiling, too."

My eyes drifted up, where a piece was dangling, taped precariously onto the upside down surface.

"When did you put that up there?"

"A magician never reveals their secrets." He laughed at his own joke, and reluctantly, I joined in.

_He was just so close. So fucking close. And our hands were touching, and his face was right in front of mine._

_And I was fearful of what I would do next._

His lips were less than an inch away from mine, and I couldn't resist from getting even closer. After all, kissing under the mistletoe was a Christmas tradition.

The confusing scene from earlier today all of a sudden made ten times more sense. He had realized the meaning of mistletoe a little too late, and he had felt awkward about it afterwards.

_Or he knew what it meant all along and just wasn't sure what my response would be._

No, it was the first scenario. I knew he wasn't going to participate in the tradition, especially since it was with me. He was too smart and too logical to get involved with anyone that had tendencies like my own.

And I couldn't subject him to having to live with me like this. It was too cruel. I would just break his android heart and go back to my old habits of drinking obsessively and playing Russian Roulette with myself on a daily basis. Just as I deserved.

"I need a rest." The tension between us was broken, and Connor shoved himself away, walking at a quick pace to the bedroom. "I'll be back eventually. I need to be alone." The word alone was amplified in a way that just made me want to crouch down and cry.

He closed the door behind him and didn't look back.

Even though I knew he was going to deny me, the pain was unbearable in my chest. I walked over to the kitchen where my gun was lying on a counter. Checking to make sure the bullets were inside, I held the canister against my head.

I didn't even spin it to have a slight chance of survival.

But I couldn't do it.

_I was too much of a coward to pull the trigger and end his misery. I was selfish. I was pathetic. I was a failure._

I shoved the gun against the wooden floorboards and curled up against the fridge, bawling my eyes out.

_Please, don't let him hear me. I can't let him suffer anymore._

But I was letting him suffer. All the times when I was holding his hand, all the times when I embraced him in a comforting hug, it was only for me.

Somehow, even though he had done the same things right back, I was convinced of it.


	3. Fucking Deviant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My 3rd entry for Hannor Week (which I'm trying desperately to catch up on)
> 
> Something grabbed at my hands, pressing at the new scars, giving them just enough time to heal the physical damage I had just inflicted. "Connor, I know what you're doing."
> 
> I opened my eyes to see Hank's face, incredibly concerned, right in front of mine.
> 
> Why did he, of his own will, keep getting so close? And why did those stupid thoughts have to keep coming back, telling me to push my face forward when I was begging them to stop?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Does contain strong language and self-harm. Read at your own risk.

**10:16 PM**

**December 12th, 2038**

 

"Hank, wake up. I have what I wanted to show you from the store." I shook his warm body which was fast asleep under the covers. "It's already 10:16, Hank, and I really want to show you something."

He rolled over and pulled the covers up further over his head.

"Hank, I'm back, and I really would like to show you something."

No response.

"It's 10:16 in the morning. Wake up."

"It's also 10:16 in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. So it's past time to get up."

He rolled back over to face me and shook his head. "You really don't understand, do you?"

What exactly didn't I understand? According to a recent survey that I had found, the average time for waking up in the morning was around 8:30. It was almost 2 hours past that time, and I had something to show him. Besides, he had gone into his room at 7:34 last night. The information was stored on my harddrive, and I knew it was correct, I was 100% sure.

"I don't understand why you're saying I don't understand."

He finally opened his eyes, then looked up at me and laughed. "The sentences that come out of your mouth are some of the stupidest and socially-unaware things I've ever heard."

I bit my lip shyly and hid my face, but noticed his red eyes. Eyes that red were commonly associated with a severe lack of sleep or were a side-effect of lengthy crying. But that didn't make SENSE. He had gone into his room at an incredibly early time and I had heard almost zero noises coming from him the entire night. Except for a few tissues being drawn out of a box and a silent scraping sound, I had heard nothing.

Nose-blowing, most commonly used with tissues, was typically only used when there was a build-up of fluid in the nose. And a build-up of fluid in the nose was either caused by crying, allergies, or an illness.

An illness. That would explain the sounds I had heard, his late waking time and his painfully red eyes. "Are you feeling ill? If you give me some information on your condition I could diagnose you with a 93% accuracy rate.  
  
He shook his head and sat up. "No. I'm feeling fine."

 

**Probability of Purposeful Falsity: 96%**

 

Something was not right. Although it didn't determine whether or not he had an illness, the surprisingly high falsity percentage rate I got told me that there was hardly any chance he was feeling okay.

"Hank? You're eyes are unhealthily red and you're unusually tired for a fourteen hour long sleep. All of these pieces of evidence tell me that something's wrong."

He snickered, not even looking at me while he spoke. "Can you talk like a human please? I don't want to listen to a machine."

"But I am a-"

"But you're also a human." There was something in his eyes that let me know that I had somehow let him down.

_I had been a failure, again. I wasn't even surprised._

Hank shuffled out of bed and grabbed some clothes from his closet. "And if you thought I actually went to bed at that time and was feeling fine, you're fucking dead wrong."

"The only sounds I heard happened at 4 in the morning."

"Yeah, I know." He turned around to face me, his outfit for today laying across his arm. "You ever heard of the words all-nighter and depressed?" He walked out of the room and entered the bathroom, leaving me to stand there with my new, incredibly upsetting discovery. "Now get whatever this thing is you want to show me out. I'll be there in a few minutes." He closed the door behind him.

So my first thought was right. It was another thing I had denied repeatedly, just so I didn't have to face the truth. I just didn't want to have him suffer like that, I didn't want to have to see him suffer like that. All of our struggles throughout the past few days had been behind closed doors, except for that incident where I first got back.

That was the only time where Hank had broken in front of me for months. And I had somehow picked his pieces back up successfully, and it had felt nice, sitting on that couch and leaning on him and holding his hand. And it felt like I was doing something right, like he had come to terms with something and I had fully accepted it and made it better, purely by supporting him and allowing us to touch, to feel eachother both literally and figuratively.

But the pieces had been broken again, both his and mine. And the love, even if only expressed through friendship that day, had all been lost. Purely because I had allowed myself to get close to him.

No, that's not how it went. We had only broken since I had left him standing there in the living room when I was too afraid to kiss him because of what he might think of me.

No, we had broken again because I allowed myself to fall in love with him that one time on the couch, and the time after that, when I had foolishly thought he liked me when he made that comment about the mistletoe. And the time after that, when I had come so stupidly close to kissing him.

_They were all mistakes that I could've prevented if I hadn't been so stupidly foolish. So blind of our future._

I bit my tongue and scratched at my hands, the plastic actually hurting.

_It was all my fault for allowing myself to fall in love with him. I was the one who was a coward, a nuisance, a failure._

It was so much easier to just lay all of the blame on myself, and I took that chance.

Hank walked out of the bathroom and came in to where I was, leaning on the bed hopelessly, rocking back and forth, scratching myself until thirium came leaking out, my thoughts hating on me, a feeling that what I was thinking and doing wasn't right pushing me into madness.

Something grabbed at my hands, pressing at the new scars, giving them just enough time to heal the physical damage I had just inflicted. "Connor, I know what you're doing."

I opened my eyes to see Hank's face, incredibly concerned, right in front of mine.

_Why did he, of his own will, keep getting so close? And why did those stupid thoughts have to keep coming back, telling me to push my face forward when I was begging them to stop?_

I relaxed my hands, trying to trick him into releasing me so I could scratch myself again, but they didn't let go. "Connor, I know exactly what you're doing and I'm asking you to please stop."

He didn't know what was going through my head. If he did, I'm sure his opinion would be different. I wanted to do a probability test, but something emotionally paining made me stop before I could even start the process.

"No, I can't and I shouldn't. You don't know who I really am."

He sat down beside me, holding my hands in his, making sure they were apart so I couldn't harm myself further.

"I may not know everything about you, Connor. There are still some things about you that I question on a daily basis. But that doesn't mean that you should harm yourself. I know that you're an amazing person, and I need you to stop doing this to yourself."

_But he still didn't know what I hid behind my walls. What was hidden behind the skyscraper-height objects that were crashing down, all around me._

"You still don't know what I hide." I tried to wrench my hands away, but his grasp was too tight.

"No, I don't." He sighed, and I could sense that he was preparing to say something that he had been hiding from me because of his own insecurities and worries. "I still don't want you to do this to yourself. I know exactly what that hurt feels like, and I can't have you existing like that. Yesterday, after you closed yourself behind my bedroom door, I did it to myself. And I was about to do something much worse." His breathing got more rapid as he launched into his next speech. "But there was something that stopped me. It was a sense of worry and fear, but it got me to stop. So now I want to be the person who helps drive you away from doing that before you even have the chance to. Because I couldn't live without you, Connor." A deep breath lifted his entire chest up and down. "And I think I love you."

I didn't even think, I just acted. "I love you too." I smothered myself into his shoulder, tears rolling down my cheeks while I sobbed into him.

_He had told me everything. His darkest secrets, his worst fears. And I still couldn't muster up the courage to kiss him. HE had to be the one to tell me he loved me. HE had to be the one to comfort me in my darkest moments, when I never did for him._

There was one way to not have to ruin our relationship. To keep the "I love you's" at a friendship level. I could stop thinking those thoughts, and our friendship would be salvaged before I ruined it.

I just knew somehow that he would disagree if he knew what I was planning on doing. But if that would save him from myself without having him die because of me, it was a risk that I was willing to take.

_I didn't even consider the other option, the one that the back of my mind was desperately longing for._

"Now, what was it that you wanted to show me?"

I pushed myself off of him, vowing to never touch him like that again. The chance of those thoughts coming back was too great, and I couldn't have that happen. I wouldn't lose control of myself this time. "Follow me." I didn't hold his hand as I walked to the living room, where the old sweaters and fabric markers were laying on the coffee table. "Ta-dah." Only now did I realize that they looked super lame.

To my complete surprise, Hank come up from behind me and hugged me. "Ugly Christmas sweater time?"

_Too risky, way too risky, I can't have those thoughts come back._

I wiggled out of his grasp and passed him the large, sky blue one without touching his hand. He looked deeply upset as his eyes moved from the sweater to me and then back again.

"I thought, you, I," he trailed off, unable to form any more words. Although I was confused and concerned as to why he was acting like this, I grabbed the smaller, light green sweater and the fabric markers and sat on the floor, not even looking up once at him. I pulled open the blue marker and drew a circle before opening the red one and drawing another, this one interlocking with the blue one.

_Why was I drawing this, exactly?_

Oh. Even my android version of a subconscious brain just wanted HIM. There was no getting away. I would either be too afraid to tell him what I truly felt and ruin our relationship that way or tell him everything and ruin our relationship the other way.

_No matter what, it was all my own fucking fault._

Hank sat down beside me as I put the words "Fucking Deviant" in bright, bold letters across the front, right underneath the two circles I had been so stupid to draw.

_It's all my fault. I hate myself. This fucking deviant is the worst person I've ever known, and there's no getting around that._

I didn't even notice Hank pulling on his new sweater with the words "Fucking Human" written across in his own handwriting.

"You like it?"

I gazed, open-mouthed at the words on his sweater. "Yeah." Allowing myself to smile slightly, I took off my RK800 jacket and pulled my new sweater over my head.

"It looks nice on you." He nodded his head approvingly at the words I had just written and the two circles peeking out from the corner.

"That sweater would look perfect on me, too, wouldn't it?" I looked at him, confused at his words before he winked mischieviously.

Oh.

OH, YES.

"I think it would look rather marvelous on you." The grin from yesterday entered my face again as I winked right back.

_I was just allowing myself to fall right back into that trap._

_But was it a good one?_

_Maybe those walls that I had been building up came crashing down not because I broke them, but because I built them in the first place._

I told myself I was just grasping at loose ties, but there was something underneath that made that way of thinking disappear.

I leaned passionately into his cozy sweater, enjoying the warm temperature of his breath on my skin and the pulse inside my chest that was racing.

I was falling deep, that was for sure. I was falling deep into a path that I would later look back on and hate myself for, one that I would forever regret.

_But would I really?_


	4. Steam, Steamy, Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My 4th entry for the Hannor Week on Tumblr, yay! More chapters will be up later!
> 
> He stepped backwards, nodding his head nervously.
> 
> He made no sense.
> 
> Yesterday, when I had made a comment that I knew he would deny, he loved it. And today, when I just subtly winked at him, he backed away and denied me.
> 
> I poured the powder in, turning off the heat. "Give it a few minutes and it'll be ready."
> 
> He nodded kindly, but continued to step back away from me.
> 
> "Hey, Connor? Are you alright there? From the way you're acting it seems like you just saw a ghost."
> 
> Again, he nodded casually, trying to deny whatever the fuck he was doing. He kept stepping back awkwardly before he hit the table and fell against it.
> 
> "What the fuck is up with you right now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Does contain strong language and self-harm. Read at your own risk.

"How can you even drink this? You're an android, how the fuck does this even work?"

"It's an ability that was only added in more recent models. Kamski came up with the idea just before he left, and the designers decided to implement it into several different models, including myself."

"But why?"

"Kamski said it was for smoother integration with humans, although he never revealed his exact reasoning."

I still remembered that scene at his house. For the first time I really thought about the emergency exit program he made. Did he make it for a reason? I mean, why else would he have designed it?

"Hmm." I didn't quite know how to reveal my questioningly curious internal monologue, so I kept quiet while I boiled the water.

"What do you think about it?"

_Why did he have to keep asking me of my own garbage opinions and hypotheses?_

"There's something about the way that he designed androids that I just don't understand. He said he didn't support deviancy in that interview when it first started to occur, yet everything seems to be pointing to him supporting it."

"Yeah." He looked at the air bubbles popping up from the bottom of the heater while he thought. "And those Chloe's in the pool, too." He bit his lip, as if in a confused state. What exactly was so confusing about the Chloe's? They were just androids swimming at the edge of the pool in the background, nothing odd there. "They were talking to eachother."

"So?" I still didn't quite grasp what he was getting at.

"That behavior is only associated with deviants. Machines don't just casually speak to other machines." His eyes lifted up to meet mine. "And they seemed almost relieved when I gave the gun back to Kamski after I denied his deal."

_Holy shit, he was right._

"You think he was planning for deviancy all along?"

"I'm not quite sure. According to the evidence, that would be the most likely scenario, but I don't understand why."

"Probably to boost his own ego."

"Maybe. Hey, I think the water's boiling." His face showed a bit of doubt at the idea, but for some reason he chose not to question it.

"Yep. It's time to put the powder in." Connor gave me the packet, which I took from him and ripped open. "You realize that thing is more than two years old, right?"

"Yep, but it's not expired." I winced at the words "more than two years old."

"Okay, then, if that's cool with you."

I hesitated before putting it in. "You're fine with it, right? Your system can handle it?" I winked in a slightly flirtatious way.

He stepped backwards, nodding his head nervously.

_He made no sense._

Yesterday, when I had made a comment that I knew he would deny, he loved it. And today, when I just subtly winked at him, he backed away and denied me.

I poured the powder in, turning off the heat. "Give it a few minutes and it'll be ready."

He nodded kindly, but continued to step back away from me.

"Hey, Connor? Are you alright there? From the way you're acting it seems like you just saw a ghost."

Again, he nodded casually, trying to deny whatever the fuck he was doing. He kept stepping back awkwardly before he hit the table and fell against it.

"What the fuck is up with you right now?"

"Nothing." But his LED was flashing red and his back was literally on the table while his feet were on the ground. They lifted up a fraction of a second later, knocking over both himself on the table. "What the actual fuck is up with you!?"

He stood up frantically, put the table and chairs in their right places before rushing over to grab two mugs from the cabinets. Literally running over to the container holding the newly made hot chocolate, he sloshed the mixture into the two cups. Some of it splashed onto the counter, but he didn't even seem to notice. Holding one cup out to me, he grabbed the other and sat down at the table, holding his head in his hands to hide his bright red, flashing LED. It was clear that he didn't want to be questioned, but I did anyway.

"Connor? Something's up. And I can see your red LED." I pointed to the side of his forehead, which his other hand immediately moved to cover as well. "What's the problem?"

Instead of even saying one word, he shook his head at me. As I usually did, I wondered what I had done wrong. I stepped back and sat down on the chair to his right, leaving him be. It wasn't because I wanted to, it's not because I knew that was what was right. I only did it because I was too scared to do anything else.

And I did what I had done for the past two years, I did what Connor had done yesterday.

I began scratching myself, hating on myself, putting all of the blame right back on me.

"Hank?"

Connor reached across the table, removing his fingers from covering his own forehead and placed them on my hands. "You're doing the same thing."

I tried to deny it by stopping, but my decisions weren't fooling him.

"I know exactly what you're doing, and I can't have you do it to yourself anymore. It's hurting you."

_But that was exactly WHY I was doing it in the first place._

I pulled back, trying to release his grip, just as he had done to me yesterday. But just like what had happened before, he held my hands apart with a strong grasp.

"I'm sorry, Hank. I apologize for freaking out and making you feel this way."

_He thought he was the one to blame?_

"No, Connor, this isn't your fault." Slowly, I turned my hands around in his and held them. "Why don't we enjoy ourselves for once and drink this hot chocolate?" This time, as I released one of my hands from his, he didn't hold it down. Instead, he pulled one of his own hands back and gripped his own cup.

"It's down to 96 degrees. That should be a warm but not too hot temperature for us to enjoy."

I picked up the mug, actually enjoying the hot temperature of both the drink and Connor's other hand on mine. As I put the mug back down, I noticed Connor's eyes were open wide, going between his own mug and our intertwined hands. "Okay, what's up?"

"Nothing. I just discovered I like the taste of the hot chocolate, is all."

But for some reason his eyes had focused on the touch of our hands.

_He was denying his feelings for the connection we had, wasn't he? That's what he had been doing, and thats why he was acting so shocked. The realization had just hit him._

No, I had it all wrong in my swirling mind and I knew it. He was just surprised about the hot chocolate, was all.

_There's NO WAY he likes you like that, case closed. You're just suppressing the truth of the matter._

I drew my hand out from under his, and he let me do it. My body sat up, frigid in the chair, even though the cup of hot chocolate was warm against my fingers. He sat the exact same way.

The steam from our mugs rose up between us, clouding our view of eachother but somehow making us focus on the other even more.

_It was getting steamy in here._

According to me, it was just according to me. He didn't like me like that. The case was already closed. The evidence was piled up in stacks. I just needed to see it and stop myself from denying all their claims.

But as much as I told myself that my inner dialogue was wrong, I felt like I was suppressing something even more.


	5. Unwanted Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My 5th entry for Hannor Week!!! This one is still part of the series, but it's in a poetic form. Please let me know what you think of it!!!  
> And this one is darker than my other pieces (which is surprising because some of my other pieces are DARK) but I still think the end-product came out pretty nice. I apologize if it's too much, I was in quite a mood while writing this and my emotions kind of just fell out all over this fanfiction. Anyway...
> 
> Breathing in, breathing out  
> The oxygen that I didn't need  
> Thinking deep, not letting out
> 
> \- My thoughts  
> \- My fears  
> \- My hopes  
> \- My dreams  
> \- My nightmares  
> \- My problems  
> \- My solutions  
> Which were all sitting behind me.
> 
> I wish Hank  
> Would let me  
> Crawl into that hole of hell instead of  
> Trying to make me peacefully enjoy it  
> From the outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Does contain strong language, graphic depictions of violence, self-harm and attempted suicide. Read at your own risk.

**5:21 PM**

**December 14th, 2038**

**File Saved in Created Documents >> December 14th >> ???**

 

One hand lazily draped around my shoulder  
Another bracing himself  
For what I know might come next  
But he doesn't know  
Even one bit of what I've been hiding.

"I like being  
Here. It makes me feel  
Warm inside."

Why did he have to say it.

More importantly, why did I have to think he meant it like that.

Leaning forward,  
Closing my eyes  
The only skin I'm feeling  
Being my own  
As I've  
Ignored him again  
Still a  
Fucking Deviant  
And I wasn't proud.

Those sparks were close to my skin, and  
I got closer.

Breathing in, breathing out  
The oxygen that I didn't need  
Thinking deep, not letting out

\- My thoughts  
\- My fears  
\- My hopes  
\- My dreams  
\- My nightmares  
\- My problems  
\- My solutions  
Which were all sitting behind me.

I wish Hank  
Would let me  
Crawl into that hole of hell instead of  
Trying to make me peacefully enjoy it  
From the outside.

I think  
He might've wished the same.

"Do you like the warmth?"

Yes, I did. I just wanted it to envelop my veins,  
Close at my skin,  
Lapse at my flesh.

But I couldn't say a word.  
He would try to  
Stop me.

I nodded my head  
Innocently.

"Good. I'm glad to see you're  
Enjoying yourself for once."  
He had  
Not even  
One fucking  
Clue.

"Yeah. I like the  
Smell of the ashes, and  
The quiet crackling sound."  
Purposefully,  
I didn't bring up  
The heat.

He leaned forward, his bare arm  
Touching my covered one. I shifted  
To the left.  
He leaned back, confused  
And defeated.

That's what my system told me,  
But I knew it wasn't  
Correct.  
He wouldn't be defeated because  
I hadn't touched him, in that kind of  
Romantic way.

But my system had always given me  
The correct  
Information.

Maybe  
It was just a system error.

I leaned back, satisfied  
With my conclusion, before instantly regretting what  
I'd just done.

His face was  
Even more  
Confused, now.

He stared into me, and I  
Didn't like  
One bit  
How it made me feel.  
I had been  
Pushed to my limits  
By my own self.

_Fuck,_   
_I deserved it._

I stood up, leaving  
Him behind.  
Fucking coward, that's  
What I was. I had told that to myself  
Before, and it was  
Still true.

We were so enveloped in  
Whatever thoughts we were thinking  
That we didn't realize  
The unwanted spark  
On the rug, spreading.

"Holy fuck, let me get  
Some water!"

He ran over to the kitchen, leaving  
Me alone.  
To do whatever I   
Wanted to.

_I didn't even_   
_Hesitate._

_I just_   
_Acted._

Pulling myself  
To the ground. Setting my fingers  
On the flames, and letting them  
Engulf me.  
I cared, but I cared for  
The suffering of  
Myself.

The pain should've been  
Enough to wrench anyone back, human or  
Android, but  
I liked it.  
I liked how it made me struggle. I liked  
How it made me hurt.

I would keep  
The flames rolling, my skin  
Turning  
White under the  
Unbearable heat.  
I wouldn't let  
My biocomponents  
Repair themselves  
This time.

"Connor, what the fuck are you  
Doing!?"

It was more of a  
Rhetorical question than one  
Made out of  
Curiosity.

My arm and head, the parts of me  
On fire, were doused in water, and the  
Flames on myself and the rug  
Went out.

The physical pain had  
Stopped, but the emotional pain  
Was infinitely  
Worse.  
I had just failed  
My mission.  
The one  
I had wanted most  
To accomplish.

"The fuck were you  
Thinking? You  
Could've died!"

_I know. That was_   
_Exactly why I_   
_Did it._

But I couldn't  
Let him know. He would  
Prevent me from  
Doing it in the  
Future.

"I fell, my  
Biocomponents stopped  
Working from the  
Heat."

He just  
Shook his head and  
Picked me up. I  
Winced, not because of any  
Physical pain, but because he had  
Touched me  
Again.

"Don't try to fool  
A man who's  
Done it himself  
On multiple  
Occasions."

_He always knew_   
_Too much._

He put me down on the couch, running his  
Fingers through my  
Hair.

"There's so much still left  
To live for."

A gulp came from  
My own throat  
As he said  
The next sentence.

"And I couldn't live without you."

I was going to kill him, either by  
Revealing my true feelings about him, or  
Killing myself  
Before I had the chance to.  
I didn't have any other  
Choices  
That I knew of.

He brought his face close, but  
He brought it back  
To where it was  
Originally. Then,  
He did something  
That I think shocked  
Both of us.  
He hugged me,  
So close to his chest, his heart  
Beating so fast and loud  
It could be easily  
Felt.

And I did something  
That surprised both of us  
Just as much. I  
Hugged him  
Right back.

Before pulling away again. If only  
My memories could be deleted of my own volition. But  
I could delete the poem  
I had just foolishly written  
About it. About  
Him.

 

**File Deleted >> Created Documets>> December 14th >> Empty**

 

But the memory  
Would last  
Forever.

 

**File >> Harddrive >> December 14th >> Footage >> 17 hours, 34 minutes, 58 seconds of footage recorded**


End file.
